


like punching people in the face with words

by blackkat



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Drinking, Flirting, Friendship, Humor, Kissing, M/M, talk no jutsu
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-21
Updated: 2018-08-21
Packaged: 2019-06-30 19:45:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15758442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackkat/pseuds/blackkat
Summary: “Fuck, you too?” is the first thing Zabuza says to him after a solid five years apart.





	like punching people in the face with words

“Fuck, you too?” is the first thing Zabuza says to him after a solid five years apart.

Kisame eyes the only other occupant of the bar—understandable, given that it just hit midmorning, but still depressing. Zabuza’s still wearing his Kiri hitai-ate, unscratched, but there's a Konoha spiral on the back of his flak jacket. He’s also got a whole bottle of sake in front of him, and if Kisame didn’t know his tolerance he might be worried.

“Blond brat?” he asks, kind of morbidly interested, and in answer Zabuza bypasses his cup, salutes Kisame with the bottle, and downs a long swig of it. Kisame laughs despite himself, dragging out the stool next to Zabuza and sinking down. The bartender brings him the same as Zabuza’s having without pausing to ask, and her smile is wryly sympathetic as she leaves. Kisame's pretty sure he’s seen her face in the Bingo Book. Missing-nin, probably—he’s sensing a pattern here.

“I'm not even _mad_ about it,” Zabuza says, and his tone is entirely offended. “Fucking—I'm _happy_.”

Kisame groans, because gods, what a mood. “I had a dream,” he says, and if it’s a little plaintive he thinks he can be forgiven. He just had his whole life rattled right down to its foundations.

Zabuza snorts, taking another sip. “Better one now?” he asks, and apparently morbid curiosity is another thing they have in common.

“Much better,” Kisame says glumly, and when Zabuza holds his bottle out Kisame taps his to it, cracks the seal, and downs the whole bottle in one long pull. His constitution won't let him get drunk, but he can _try_. At some point he’s going to need to apply for enlistment as a Konoha shinobi, look for an apartment now that he’s got a village to serve again. Naruto even babbled something about genin teams as he dragged Kisame back to Konoha like a cat carrying a snake home to show its owner.

(Tsunade had taken one look at him and groaned. Kisame's pretty sure this is a common thing with Naruto, and he doesn’t quite know how to feel about it.)

“Fucking ridiculous,” Zabuza agrees, and hands Kisame his bottle. “You look like you need this more than I do.”

Kisame takes it gratefully, downs it as well. There's a mild burn, a faint haze that crosses his vision, but it’s gone in a moment and he groans in despair.

“How long?” he asks Zabuza.

“Three years,” Zabuza says with all the grimness of a veteran recalling their greatest battle. “He got me an’ Haku both—guess we were the first. And then he graduated to bijuu.” A smirk, and he tips his head to Kisame. “Tailless tailed beasts, too, I guess.”

At least Kisame is in good company here. He laughs, slumping back in his seat, and raises his empty bottle to Kisame. “Like the old days, isn't it?” he asks, amused.

Zabuza chuckles, too, propping his elbow on the bar as he regards Kisame through half-lidded eyes. “If it were the old days I’d be inviting you to sit on my lap,” he says.

Invitations Kisame always turned down, because there are enough moments of questionable consent in a shinobi’s daily life, and the thought of a drunk partner makes him uncomfortable. Zabuza used to get falling-down drunk, too, especially after bad missions, but that’s something else that looks like it’s changed. He’s barely tipsy right now, just enough to relax the set of his mouth. A pretty mouth, and Kisame's always thought so.

How about you sit on mine?” he invites, patting his thighs, and Zabuza brows arch towards his hairline. He glances at Kisame's face, like he’s waiting for the punchline, but whatever he must see there makes him bark out a laugh. Without hesitation, he rises, swings a leg over Kisame's knees, and drops right into his lap.

It’s possible Kisame managed to forget just how brash Zabuza’s always been.

Leaning forward, Zabuza drapes one arm around Kisame's shoulders, sags the sake bottle the bartender just deposited with his free hand and takes a mouthful. He doesn’t swallow, and Kisame laughs, remembering this game. Not with Zabuza, maybe, but—he tumbled his share of their fellow shinobi, even if he never went for Zabuza.

He leans in, seals his mouth over Zabuza’s, and Zabuza’s lips part around a moan. Kisame licks the sake out of his mouth, slides his tongue in deep t catch the last few drops of it, and then pulls back, trying to catch his breath.

Zabuza is breathing hard, too, lips parted, cheeks flushed, eyes hungry. He eyes the sake bottle, then catches Kisame's gaze, and grins. “How many of those do you think it’ll take us to get drunk?” he asks.

Kisame laughs, steals it from his hand. “Let’s find out,” he challenges, and takes a mouthful.

This time it’s Zabuza who leans in, mouth sweet and hot and sharp with the burn of the alcohol as he steals the sake from Kisame's tongue.

 

 

Kisame wakes up with a hangover for the first time in his life, and it’s _miserable_. He groans, rolling over in bed to get away from the vicious sunlight slanting across the room, and—

Well. That’s rather less miserable, isn't it?

Zabuza is sprawled out next to him, blankets tangled around his waist, the bruise-marks Kisame left scattered over his shoulders and throat perfectly clear in the morning sun. it’s impossible to resist the urge to slide his hand down, and Kisame doesn’t even try, fits his hand over the fingertip-bruises shading to life on Zabuza’s hip. He breathes out, and with a soft, rough sound Zabuza shifts, reaches out. Kisame catches his hand, pulls him in and up against his chest, and Zabuza settles there, smelling like sake and warm skin. It makes Kisame swallow, and he lets his head flop back onto the pillow with a feeling that’s something close to amazement. Regrets it immediately afterwards, as his vision lurches, but it’s survivable.

“You're _cuddling_!” a voice crows, loud and bright, and that’s significantly _less_ survivable.

“Why are you in here?” Kisame demands, glaring at the blond brat perched on the railing of Zabuza’s balcony. He’s _beaming_ at them, and it’s too much for Kisame's poor head.

“I'm just checking that you're okay!” Naruto says, and damn it but Kisame actually _believes_ that. He grins at Kisame, and the sheer overwhelming happiness in his expression makes even Kisame's hangover seem a bit better. He gives Zabuza a thumbs up he definitely learned from Maito Gai and says, “Can I give the speech at your wedding?”

Kisame throws a kunai at him, and only kind of misses on purpose.

 

(Naruto totally gives the speech at their wedding. Suigetsu laughs at them for _days_.)


End file.
